Fallen Angels
by Illusions of a Fox
Summary: Samara is fear, Samara enjoys fear, and Samara enjoys others pain. A small veiw into one of Samara's many killings, set sometimes during the early stages of the ring two, not really connected to the actual movie. Read and Reveiw!


Author's Notes: Well, as you can all see, I watched the Ring 2 yesterday at the movies with my friends (here in Australia, everything comes out late, -sigh-) and I almost died of fright and laughter. Yes, I have a weird sense of humor. I've got to say, the scariest bit was probably the look of the bodies faces once Samara had finished with them. I wasn't able to sleep properly last night either because of them… Anyway, this is a little lesbian-ish, if you want to see, it, but I didn't really mean for it to have any in it. Meh, we'll all get over it with time. Review!

The tape had been watched again.

It was a strange thing for her to know, a pleasant thing, almost.

She thrived on knowing that her circle, her _ring _would ever be incomplete. One after the other, they would watch, and then they would die. It was like…what was that word? Oh, she remembered, it was like clockwork.

The sick pleasure of knowing all this often caught her, the tiny ripple that was barely a shadow of the old emotion she had once known forced her to take a moment, to giggle and listen to the empty, sadistic sound bounce of the wet walls of her abode. It was almost a warm feeling. Perhaps one day, one day she would succeed in her mission and feel as they did, the living did. One day maybe.

But for now she was content, it had been a whole week since the watching of the tape. Almost exactly to this moment, the boy had watched her tape. He was such a pretty boy, clean blonde hair, the colour of a long forgotten sun, with blue eyes like the sky. Tanned skin and a laughing, smiling mouth, though now it was rare for her to see him smiling now, and if he ever did, it was always strained, grotesque and pretend. She didn't like that smile, it made her angry, it reminded her of _their _smiles. Mommies and Daddies smiles.

But now she could take away that smile forever, he was hers now. She had enjoyed tormenting him, following him. He had ignored her so well at first, but she had waited, she had watched for his weakness. And then she had found it. His sister, pretty and bright with matching hair and eyes, was his only true weakness. Again, Samara had allowed her high pitched giggle to sound out through the house of the siblings. Now it was perfect.

After that it was so easy, so simple to drive him into a deep, insane terror. The sight of her, the sound of her, the thought of her petrified him to no end. And all from a simple kiss. The poor, poor sweet boy had discovered his younger sister, no more then eight years old, staring up at a shadowy figure, hanging over her. Long, dark, wet hair fell over black eyes and pale skin as Samara gazed down at them, a small, sickening smile plastered onto her features.

Terrified, he had screamed, screamed for the little girl to run, to hide, but he was ignored. Captivated by the ghostly girl before her, the blonde child had simply stared, eyes wide and mouth slightly open in a sort of mildly frightened awe. Samara opened her black, empty mouth, swooping down upon the girl whoso bravely stood without the fear that all others had, and kissed the shell pink lips. Then, without a sound, she was gone.

It was then he had collapsed, fearing now not only for himself, but for his kin. There was no one else to protect her, not now with their father dead and their mother still blaming them both for his suicide. She was too deep into mourning to see that her children, the ones she now hated with such force, needed her dearly.

Finally, the day had come. Finally his end was here. Their mother had gone, to where, they did not know, but perhaps she was more intelligent then them for doing so. Huddled together, neither truly known what their fate was. Samara grinned, but she did, oh yes, she did.

She had come, like a moth to the flame, trickling through the house. Blacks waters flooding the place, room by room in dogged search for her victims. She never hurried though, never, she knew she'd find them eventually.

And there they were, he hugging her small body to his, tears streaming down his face while she simply wrapped her arms loosely around his lean body, afraid, but not for her own life. The little girl was whispering comforting words to him, even as Samara approached and her brother began to scream, still she whispered. Even when he was tugged from her arms, face twisted in his last scream and body stiff, she did not stop whispering. However, it was then she fled.

The girl ran from her brother's body, fearing him now, fearing everything around her until it was all just a huge blend of hate, pain, sorrow and horror. She only ever stopped when she tripped down the stairs to the ground floor. Half falling, half rolling, she smashed her way downwards until her broken body came to a halt at the bottom, bloodied and bruised. Sobbing, she crawled painfully towards the corner, pulling her knees up to her chest and closing her eyes, resting her forehead upon her bleeding knees.

Samara swooped down the stairs, limbs near twitching in excitement. Nearing the weeping girl though, her mood swung towards anger. There was not enough. There was not enough fear within the child, not enough terror directed towards Samara.

Why! She raged, leaving the words unspoken. Why did she refuse to obey and crumple as the others did!

Without lifting her head, the blonde child answered, "Mommy…" She sobbed, "Why won't you save me mommy?" The plea went unanswered though once again Samara's mood changed to puzzled hesitation. She paused, hovering over the other silently, unsure of what to do. Slowly, when there were no more words from the blonde, she wrapped her arms around the girl, as she had with all the others.

The front of Samara's body was merely inches away from the blonde girls back, her iron hands clutching her knees, dragging her towards her. Almost instantly, the child pressed her back against the dead girl's chest, sobs slightly quieter. "Hold me," She whispered, "Hold me like mommy wouldn't." Surprised, the dark haired girl did not respond for moment. A broken sob from the blonde's throat wracked her whole body, confirming the decision now made by Samara.

Slowly, gently, she dragged the child down into the dark depths of her well; an almost inaudible whisper was uttered.

"_I'll make it better," _Samara soothed, the icy waters closing around them,

"_I'll be the mommy now…" _

_-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

Author's Notes: Well that turned out...scarily strange. I have no idea what it was _supposed _to be like, but I guess this isn't so bad. I know there's probably a thousand grammar and spelling mistakes, but I honestly can't be bothered going back and editing it, I'm lazy and so I've never proof read any of my work (a very easy thing to see, .) and as I have no beta, I'm dying right now in that area. Oh well, please give me any advise, corrections, praise (which I doubt I'll get any of) or flames in your reviews! –wink, wink, nudge, nudge, say no more, say no more- (yes, It's stolen from Monty Python, --')


End file.
